


Castor canadensis

by sullacat



Category: Star Trek
Genre: Alternate Universe - Animals, Crack Treated Seriously, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-06
Updated: 2017-01-06
Packaged: 2018-09-15 03:31:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9216689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sullacat/pseuds/sullacat
Summary: "Always a beaver" Spones





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [altilis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/altilis/gifts).



_The beaver (genus Castor) is a primarily nocturnal, large, semi-aquatic rodent. Castor includes two extant species, the North American beaver (Castor canadensis) (native to North America) and Eurasian beaver (Castor fiber) (Eurasia). (Wikipedia)_

**Summer**

_warm nuzzles, gentle nuzzles, curled up against Mother, sleeping, so tired, sleeping through the long winter. Father fetching food, such tasty leaves, cold and fresh, Mother and Father and-_

Spock blinked. The dream always ended there, leaving him confused and sad when he woke. He'd been here three months now, his lodge clean and pristine but every evening when his eyes opened, it took a moment to take in his surroundings, still unfamiliar at times.

It had not always been so. 

When Spock woke after the storm _mother father so much water where are you_ , he'd been alone. His den was gone, his parents nowhere to be seen. Nothing looked familiar, nothing tasted familiar. It was warmer than he remembered, the passage of time confusing. Spock lingered a day, paddling in long circles, hoping to see his parents but when they did not show up, he began traveling downstream, not stopping until he'd spotted the abandoned lodge he now called home.

Previous owners had created a clean den, but without being tended, there were huge gaps, breaks in the wood where water passed through. Spock set himself to work, tirelessly for a solid week before stopping only to eat and sleep. Large willow branches, smaller ones to fill the gaps, then mud and grasses to patch the holes. 

When it was complete, he stopped just a moment to admire his work.

Winter would be here soon. Time to start preparing.

 

A few days later, he felt eyes on him. Turning quickly, he saw it was not a predator, but a female. 

They approached each other cautiously, curiously. _Spock,_ he told her, making slow circles around her, letting her inspect him as he admired her. 

_T'Pring,_ she answered, long and brown and graceful as she swum behind him. Her scent attracted him, large brown eyes and he swam closer, leaning in to nuzzle her cheek but she pulled back. 

_Spock?_ he asked, not sure why she hesitated. They needed each other, a biological pull as old as time. More than finding a mate, it was finding a partner, someone to share the load. The more food Spock gathered before it got cold, the better, and two beavers could quickly stockpile fresh branches that would last them both through the winter. _Spock?_ he asked again.

But it was not meant to be. For whatever reason, the sleek brown beaver swam backwards, circling once, then continued downstream, seeking out something else, someone else. Spock watched her for a minute, until she swam completely out of sight, then turned his attention back toward the willows that would keep him alive in the cold months.

**Autumn**

Spock could taste the crispness in the air.

Being an animal, he wasn't cognizant of the phrase 'busy as a beaver' but nonetheless he exemplified this idiom, working from dusk to daybreak, and even a little longer, enlarging the size and complexity of his lodge, doubled in size from when he first found it. The major logs had been set in place, with smaller ones added, moved, shifted, and finally patched to his satisfaction. 

Swimming back a few feet, he tilted his head, yawning as he sighed in satisfaction. His hard work produced this small but growing oasis among the trees. Deeper and wider, it hadn't taken long for the pond to fill in, and for other animals to join him in his wet refuge. Most minded themselves - deer and birds, frogs and turtles, some breed of canis that he did not recognize immediately. No one bothered him, no one disturbed the privacy of his lodge. 

That is, until Jim arrived.

_Splash!_ Spock's ears perked up again at the sounds coming from the ever growing pond. Eyes narrowing, he spotted the source of the noise, an otter who'd been watching his efforts from the side of the pond all evening.

This was the wrong move, Spock now saw, because once the creature noticed Spock's interest, he slid into the water and swam over toward Spock, a sleek brown head bobbing out of the water as he approached. _Pond is good! This is you?_ he asked, making slow circles around Spock.

 _Yes,_ Spock replied. _It is deeper now. I have been digging channels,_ Spock began explaining the details of his progress, but he could see the otter's interest waning. One quick glance at Spock, and the otter was gone, below the surface in a flash. 

Spock watched a moment, then turned, heading back toward the shore and the small grove of low shrubs. He'd just reached the muddy bank when he heard that splash again.

The fish flopped gracelessly on the river bank. Spock stared at it.

 _Fish!_ the otter said.

Spock paused a moment, then replied, _Yes._

_Fish for you. For thanks._

_I do not eat fish,_ Spock told him, heading back toward the trees. Felling two small willows, he immediately began stripping the bark before turning his attention back to the otter. _Are you lost?_

_Don't know. This is a new place._ Jim chattered on excitedly about being lost and found and now here, then he was gone, back under the water. Spock waited a moment, and when Jim didn't return, he resumed his work. 

Jim did return the next evening, to Spock's surprised, and each evening after that. The young otter would eat his fish and watch Spock working, chirping his comments and suggestions, telling Spock about all he'd seen before swimming off to wherever it was he went. A lazy creature, to Spock's mind; licking, rolling, and grooming his sleek fur all day.

But a good friend, as it turned out, and Spock's life became a little less lonely.

 

_Spock!_ Looking up, he saw Jim splashing his way, that tail slapping the water and getting the attention of every nearby creature. 

So excitable. Spock glanced over toward the swimming otter, trying hard to make out the shrill chirps and barks. But it was the scent that caught his attention. _Beaver._

_Yes beaver that is what I said,_ Jim replied quickly, circling Spock aggressively until Spock slid into the water. He followed Jim to the far bank, slowing as he spotted them. 

Another male, and a smaller female, no older than one winter. Intriguing. _Spock,_ he called out, giving his name in greeting, but receiving no reply.

The strange beaver moved slowly along the riverbank, possibly injured, and Spock's hopefulness fell. Another beaver or two in his lodge could have been most useful, the help and assistance in preparing for the approaching winter. But an injured male and a child would only be two more mouths to feed.

Jim didn't not seem to understand this. _Go get them._

Spock turned and swam back to his lodge. _They do not want to come._ It had happened before, and Spock, despite his loneliness, breathed a sigh of relief that his lodge, his space would remain his. Change had rarely brought good news for him, and now he could-

_Joanna!_

Turning, he saw the young beaver swimming quickly toward him, followed by Jim and the older, slower male. She repeated her name again, open and friendly, clearly happy to see another beaver. _...Spock,_ he replied quietly, watching as now they all approached his lodge, his sanctuary. _You are new here to this river._

_My mother, she is lost-_

_Gone._ The older beaver finally barked out at all of them. _Not lost. Gone._

It was quiet a moment until Jim nudged Spock toward them, and he moved closer to investigate. Upon further inspection, Spock surmised the male beaver was not much older, maybe five winters. _Can you work?_

The male glared at Spock, but then nodded. He dove into the water, kicking up and Spock saw why he moved slow, an injured back right foot. Surfacing, he looked at his young one, then Jim, then Spock. _Leonard. I am Leonard._

_Spock._

Jim began to chirp again, diving and surfacing until everyone followed him into Spock's now crowded beaver lodge. 

 

 

**Winter**

It didn't get as cold as Spock had worried, which was good because there wasn't enough food tucked away in his lodge for the three beavers to remain tucked away all winter. Each day Spock waited for the snows to come, putting away fresh branches in case they were trapped. 

The blizzards never came.

Still, there were cold mornings, when Spock was glad for the other beavers to snuggle with, shared body warmth making the long nights less lonely. 

 

Joanna was a delightful young beaver, eager to learn and help, following Spock's directions perfectly. By the end of their first month, Spock gave her the morning inspection duties of swimming around the lodge, looking for weak spots and places where the water might push through. _She is growing strong,_ he told Leonard, as the other beaver ate a late breakfast.

Leonard did not speak often those first weeks, and when he did, he barked sharply, as if hurting. Spock did not see fresh injuries and suspected the pain came more from grief and loneliness.

Spock understood this feeling. _Work. It will help,_ he offered. Leonard ignored this.

But he began working, slow at first. As weeks passed, Leonard woke earlier, joining them outside more often, even if it was just to observe, or talk to Jim, or bring leaves to Joanna. 

Some days, there was more. _This is good,_ Spock told him, inspecting a wall that Leonard had packed tight with mud, made watertight. Leonard made that barking snort, but Spock looked forward to hearing that sound, more each day. _You have earned your leaves tonight, Leonard._

Leonard's tail angrily flapped at that pronouncement and he bared his long teeth to Spock, but Spock noticed his beaver friend did not stay out as long with Jim as he usually did. _Are you well tonight?_ he asked, rolling over and seeing Leonard sliding up into the sleeping area next to him.

Sleepy grunts, but deep sighs that Spock knew came from a hard day's work, and satisfaction. Comfort. 

 

Weeks passed into months and Leonard and Spock grew closer through work and rest. In their lodge they told stories to each other before falling asleep. Spock learned about Leonard's life, his mate, how he felt when his kit was born. Spock shared how it felt when he woke up alone. 

Looking over at his crowded den, Spock didn't feel that way anymore.

  


Later one February afternoon, it happened. That scent. Spock's head turned quickly, spotting the intruder immediately. He dropped his branch.

She was circling Leonard, swimming close then pulling back, rather coquettishly Spock thought, suddenly fearful of what this all meant. 

He swam forward, watching Leonard's eyes locked onto the female. His heart stopped as the two beavers moved slow.

_Tania,_ she chirped softly.

 _Leonard,_ the other beaver replied.

She moved close to Leonard. _Tania?_ she asked, brushing against his chest.

Leonard froze. He turned his head, catching Spock's eye. _Spock,_ he eventually murmured to the young female. 

She didn't appear to understand. _Tania?_ she asked. 

_Spock,_ Leonard said more forcefully. _Spock._

The female shrugged imperceptibly, then backed off, nodding at Jim, who watched all this happening from the other side of the pond, a silly smile on his otter face. 

Spock returned to his work.

 

Later, when their work was done, Leonard snuggled close to Spock before closing his eyes, his grunty snores a little less irritating that before. Spock reached for a nearby branch, chewing on the leaves slowly before resting his head on Leonard, and falling deep asleep.

 

It was still dark when his eyes opened, and Spock was hungry. 

But he didn't want to disturb the beaver curled up beside him. _Leonard._ Spock finally murmured, nuzzling the side of his face, amused at the light growl the other beaver made. _You would sleep all day._

_Cold outside._

_You can eat fish later with Jim then,_ Spock teased, another nuzzle. It was warm in their lodge, and the winter had not yet been harsh. Maybe they could sleep another hour or two…

 

**Spring**

Tender shoots sprouted from the willow trees, and Spock knew they'd made it past the coldest of the weather, and it hadn't been bad. Their lives continued pleasantly, a cycle that Spock found great comfort in. He had food, he had friends, he watched Joanna grow into a mature beaver, taking all his lessons and applying them so well, he couldn't differentiate between her patches to the dam and his own.

Satisfaction.

Spock was searching for leaves when he heard Leonard's cry. Twisting his long body, Spock wriggled as fast as he could back into the water. He looked around for the source of Leonard's worry, some predator or wild creature - but nothing. 

No, there was someone there… a different kind of threat, and one Spock sadly understood well. 

The beaver was young, but strong, a male of maybe two winters. Spock had not spotted him before, a stranger - but Joanna was clearly interested. Leonard barked at her, but she ignored him and Spock knew. 

That pull, that drive to find another soul that completed your own. 

Joanna circled the young beaver, the two of them locking eyes inquisitively, playfully, and then all of a sudden with one glance back toward her lodge, Joanna chirped excitedly and began to swim away, after the new beaver. 

Leonard followed a few meters, then stopped and watched her swim out of sight.

Leonard refused to work the rest of the evening, and Spock allowed him his grief. Even the news from Jim, that Joanna and her mate have begun their own lodge just a short swim downstream doesn't rouse him from his lethargy. _She's happy,_ Jim chirped, chewing on his fish by the riverbank.

 _I know,_ Spock replied wearily. _But he will miss her. We will miss her._

 

As he lay down for a well deserved sleep, Spock lay down next to Leonard, who couldn't hide the grief on his face. _You would have her stay._  
_Yes._

_She needs her own family. Her own kits._ Spock nudged Leonard. _You must eat._

_Tomorrow._

Spock chewed on his bark. _You're not old, Leonard._ He hesitated. _You could father more kits... if you wanted._

Leonard rolled in his bedding, snorting. _And who would watch over you?_

Spock stared at him. Waddling toward Leonard, he dragged another branch with some tender leaves. He settled next to the beaver. 

_You could, you know. Have kits._ Leonard rolled over lazily and reached for a leaf. 

_And who would watch over you?_ Leonard turned at Spock's words, and they looked at each other a long moment before settling down for bed.

 

**Summer**

_outside Barstow, California_

"Hi, I'm looking for Carol Marcus?" 

One of the young interns pointed back behind the buildings. "Doctor Marcus, you got some company!"

"Coming!"

Nyota glanced back to make sure Geoff was following with his shoulder camera, then headed toward the sound of Carol's voice. "You weren't kidding about this place," Nyota said, reaching over and giving Carol a hug. Glancing around, she took in the tall grasses, slim tree groves of desert willows, and the large pond stretching out beyond the small compound of quonset huts. "I had no idea how green it could get out here. It doesn't even look like we're still in the Mojave desert."

"It didn't happen overnight." Carol walked them past the main building toward a smaller bungalow in the back, where Nyota could see some cages and a smaller man-made pool. "I was lucky enough to be brought in early in the wildlife rehabilitation project, and it's changed my life. These animals, they're quite extraordinary and what they're doing here is extraordinary… and more people need to know."

Nyota nodded. "That's why we're here. I can't thank you enough for calling me, letting me know about-" But right at that moment, a large splash of water caught Nyota's eye. "What was that?"

Carol laughed. "Not what, but who. That's Jim," she said as they all stepped closer to the pond's edge. "Lontra canadensis. North American river otter," she said, kneeling for a closer look. "He likes knowing what's going on at all times."

"Jim?" Nyota laughed. "He's a cutie." She nudged Geoff, who flipped on the camera and began filming as the little brown head poked out curiously, looking back at them. "What's his story?"

"River otter kits stay with their mothers for several months, but that little guy was separated somehow. Some construction workers found him washed up on the banks near a bridge they were building, and they brought him to us. After a few months of medical care and attention, Jim was released into the beaver pond." 

Geoff laughed as Jim approached, making little clucking noises. "He's not afraid." 

"Jim's quite the social butterfly. Everyone's a friend, and that's a good thing, because a year later, someone brought in a pair of otter kits that he's been looking after. You might see them following him around." 

Nyota asked, kneeling on the ground for a better look at the pond, hoping for a glimpse. A few moments passed, then Carol led them further along the bank, where Nyota could see even more wildlife. Birds, fish, turtles. "Wait - over there," Carol whispered, spotting a doe and fawn drinking from the other side of the river. "Mule deer," she pointed. 

Amazing. "I had no idea there was this much water in the desert," Nyota murmured as they hiked further, following the river bank until they reached an even larger pond. 

"The credit for that belongs to them." Carol pointed at a large beaver dam. 

Geoff whistled low. "Beavers… in the desert?" he asked incredulous. 

"Beavers once lived all over this state." An older man walked toward them, extending his hand. "Chris Pike."

"Senator Pike," Nyota replied, shaking his hand. "I'm Nyota Uhura from _Familiars_ , the web site. This is Geoff M'Benga, my camera operator." So strange to see this powerful politician dressed so casually, khakis and a large straw hat. "Thank you for letting us come film your sanctuary."

"We appreciate your interest. Doctor Marcus here can tell you what we need right now is the public's involvement. Given a little help, they'll do the rest," he said, pointing at the beaver pond. "So much of this state's water problem is man made. It's satisfying seeing nature putting things right. When reintroduced to the land they turn these intermittent streams back into true waterways." Standing, he nodded. "As soon as the beaver return, you see other wildlife return."

"Adaptive management techniques," Carol added. "Beaver dam analogues were created, and once the beavers arrived," she grinned, "they took over. Two year later, you have pooling and ponding, aggressive sediment distribution. The beginnings of a wetland."

"How many beavers are here now?" Nyota wondered. 

"Seven- no eight, I think, across three different lodges. Spock was the first." Carol pointed out into the water and Nyota spotted it - the dam, larger than she anticipated. "He was our first rescue. Leonard and Joanna came later, a father and daughter pair. Leonard was hit by a car, and they called us. We found her close by." Soon enough, they spotted one, long and muscular, sliding out of a small thicket of trees and into the water. 

"There he is, always working. We initially hoped to use him to begin repopulating the area, but," Pike laughed, "he went and mated with the male beaver, and not either of the females we offered him."

"That's… adorable."

"It's kind of cute," Pike admitted. "A year later, another male was brought to us, and he mated with the young female. They have a pair of kits now, working on another damn further downstream."

Nyota grinned, especially when the friendly otter surfaced. "This is a good thing you've created here." Turning, she looked at Carol and Christopher. "My readers love this sort of story."

"That's what we're hoping," Christopher said. "If you set your cameras up along this bank, you'll catch them tonight, when they're most active. You should get some good images."

_It was a warm afternoon, much too warm for Spock's liking, but the evening was fine. He and Leonard scavenged for leaves, Jim and his brood popped in and out, chirping about visitors and a possible coyote sighting. It was all very exciting and Leonard listened intently, offering his own opinions on all matters. Spock watched them both, then sent the otters on their way so he and Leonard could finish tending their lodge._

 _When he slept that night, it was deep and restful, curled up against Leonard's strong body. He was not lonely. He was not hungry._

_Everything was good._

**Author's Note:**

> One afternoon, in March 2015, Altilis and I were floating down the Comal River and she told me about this beaver documentary that she'd seen on Netflix. She extolled on their beaver virtues, how hard working and industrious they were and by the end of the float, Beaver Spones was born. 
> 
> I am ashamed its taken a year and a half to finally get this finished, but Happy Birthday and Happy Holidays to one of my dearest friends!


End file.
